


Just Another Quiet Evening on the Enterprise

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaHilary/pseuds/Jenna%20Hilary%20Sinclair
Summary: Kirk returns to the Enterprise after serving on a courtmartial board





	Just Another Quiet Evening on the Enterprise

Late beta shift on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ was quiet. Although Spock was officer of the watch and, indeed, in command of the ship as well, he had diverted himself from the center seat to stand over the scanners instead. There was always a science project of considerable consequence in the ship’s labs that required, or could be said to require, his attention. There were emotional reasons why he preferred the science station over the captain’s chair, although they did not need to be acknowledged to anyone.

When Lieutenant Uhura swiveled towards him and paused, undoubtedly realizing she would catch his attention without a word, he also knew with a probability approaching ninety-seven percent what she had to say to him. Consequently he took his time before responding to her, allowing the program to run to its conclusion and then conducting his usual double-check and shutdown before he straightened.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

She smiled that specifically Penda Uhura smile at him, the one that said _I know you think I’m being overly emotional, but I like you, and I think you and the captain are adorable together._ It never failed to cause him to wince internally, although he never allowed himself to show his discomfort. He also suspected that she knew his reaction, and that was part of the reason why she regarded him with that particular spark in her eyes. Human females were almost an incomprehensible species of their own, and Spock was grateful he had no need to attempt to understand any one of them on an intimate level. 

“Sir, the captain sends his regards, and they’ll be bringing the shuttle aboard shortly.”

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant. I will meet the _Galileo_ in the shuttle bay. You have the con.”

In a matter of minutes Spock was standing outside the hangar, observing the process of pressurization through the large pane of transparent aluminum. The shuttle turned on its rotating pad, bringing the hatch into view. A technician was ready to board the small ship and start status checks, as soon as the passenger, the captain of the _Enterprise_ , debarked.

Jim had been gone fifteen days. Spock had missed him. He folded his hands behind his back and allowed himself to feel the emotion that propelled the thought. The smallest sizzle of arousal lifted his genitals just enough for him to truly feel his penis against his undergarment, as he contemplated for just a moment the night that was sure to come. 

Yes, he had missed Jim. 

And then, there he was, coming down the steps to the deck, turning around first to exchange a word with the pilot who followed him, and then looking straight at Spock through the window. He smiled, and Spock stepped away to greet him by the opening door. 

“Welcome aboard, Captain,” he said as correctly as he had said it on the first day Kirk had arrived on the ship, as he’d said it a year into their voyage of discovery, and every other time the _Enterprise’s_ captain had left the ship—and then come back. He stopped himself from inquiring whether Kirk’s journey had been a pleasant one: in light of its purpose and conclusion, that hardly would have been appropriate.

“Hi, Spock. Good to be home.” 

Kirk looked more than a little worn but otherwise as he normally did, which to Spock’s eyes was excellent beyond the compare of other individuals. He had admitted to himself years before, however, that he was not unprejudiced in this case.

Kirk rotated one of his shoulders, as if he were tired, and now Spock could see some tension across the broad back, and more weariness than had been at first apparent. 

“Who’s got the bridge?”

“I am officer of the watch until the end of this shift. Lieutenant Uhura currently has the con.”

Kirk cocked an eye as they started to move down the hallway. “Anything happen while I was gone that I need to know about?”

“All activities have been unremarkable, I am pleased to say, with the exception of the occurrence on deck twelve.” 

Immediately he detected the slightest of smiles on his bondmate’s face. However, even the slightest of one of James Kirk’s smiles had an effect on those around him. Exceptional smiles were part of Kirk’s charm and, Spock was convinced, one reason why the diplomatic tasks that his captain so roundly abhorred were usually successful. It was difficult to resist this particular form of Iowa-born charisma, he knew from personal experience.

“The occurrence on deck twelve?” They stopped in front of the turbo and Kirk pressed the retrieve button. He swung around to regard Spock with arms crossed over his chest. 

“Ensign Thurber was negligent.”

Kirk stroked his top lip even as it quivered. “What happened this time?”

“All three of the snakes we were transporting from Escalus IV escaped.”

The captain’s arms dropped to his side. “What?” 

“Thurber has been instructed in the proper maintenance of the sonic curtains that contained them.”

“But what about—”

“He has been put on report.”

“Yes, but—”

“And he found two of the three snakes himself within two hours.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yes.”

“How long before—”

“There was,” Spock reflected, and perfectly well aware of the effect his recitation was having on his tired captain, “some consternation during the search in the galley.” 

“You’re kidding. No, forget that, I know you aren’t.”

The turbo arrived and they entered an empty car, so Spock was able to continue with his efforts towards relaxing his captain. 

“If you question my veracity, the complete details can be found in the ship’s log for Stardate 5682.3.”

“I bet it will make great bedtime reading. But what about deck twelve?”

“You are aware of the environmental conduit that leads from the galley to—”

“Spock, I had the schematics for the constitution class starship memorized before I was thirteen. As you very well know.” 

“Of course. Lieutenant Hopkins was, shall we say, startled to awaken and find that she had a nocturnal visitor who had not been invited.”

Kirk’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. Hopkins was perhaps the least exacting woman on board the ship when it came to choosing bed partners. 

“Did she call Security?”

Spock had no trouble keeping a straight face although the memory was a good one; he had reviewed the security tapes twice. “No, she ran out into the hallway and screamed.” 

Kirk seemed to be deeply appreciative. “In the altogether?”

Spock contemplated. “Her negligee was so transparent in its layers that the effect was the same.”

“Not the same. Better. I wish I’d been there.”

“And I,” Spock intoned, “am pleased that you were not.” 

Kirk laughed, and Spock felt some gratification that he had achieved the desired effect. “I bet you are. Will we be able to have dinner together tonight?”

“Unfortunately, no. After shift I am committed in Sciences until twenty hundred hours, and I would not wish you to wait that long to eat.” 

“It’s all right, I’m sure Bones will be up to the task. Until then I’ve got more reports to complete over this fiasco on ‘base seventeen than you want to know about. See you at twenty hundred, then?”

“Affirmative.”

From the markers on the side wall, Spock could see that the lift was about to reach its destination. Kirk could, too. He leaned forward and gave Spock a chaste, swift kiss on the lips. “See you tonight, sweetie.” 

“Jim, I have asked you—”

The doors opened and Kirk walked out backwards, grinning. “You may as well admit it, you are. I imagine the security tape with the lieutenant has been forwarded, by you, to my personal mail, right?”

Spock had the grace to know embarrassment. “Captain….”

“If the name fits, wear it. Carry on, Commander.” 

The doors closed and Spock felt the satisfaction of a job well done.

*****

He ate a light dinner in Sciences while he reviewed the reports for the day. Although he attempted to give the files the attention they deserved, and believed he managed to do so, his mind was on other things. Since he and Kirk had established an intimate relationship after the events on Webster’s Planet, Spock had released the tight hold on his sexuality that he had maintained for years, and now it was impossible not to feel some genuine anticipation that manifested itself in a physical way. 

He shifted in his chair and willed an incipient erection away. 

At last he felt that he had fulfilled his immediate responsibilities as science officer of the _Enterprise_ , although of course those duties could easily expand to fill every hour of every day if he allowed that to happen. There had been times, especially before James Kirk took command, when he had. There was no need for such self-protective maneuvers any longer. 

At twenty-hundred-oh-seven, Spock entered the cabin that he now shared with his captain. Kirk was sitting at his desk in the outer office and looked up at him. 

“Hi,” Kirk said in a weary voice, and then he rubbed his eyes. 

Immediately, without words, Spock stepped over to the side of the desk, leaned over, and offered his lips for a kiss. Kirk turned his head and took them with a sigh. Spock was prepared to make of the kiss whatever Kirk wanted—a greeting or a prelude to intimacy—but after just a few seconds Kirk pulled back. 

“You are fatigued,” Spock said, and then he stepped behind his captain and began to gently rub his shoulders. 

Kirk leaned back against him, and the weight of his head against Spock’s stomach told of the long two weeks endured at Starbase Seventeen. 

“Just a little.” One hand came up to grasp Spock’s forearm and squeezed.

“You have eaten?”

“With Giotto. Turns out Bones had to go into surgery.”

“Of course. Lieutenant Chou.” Spock chastised himself for overlooking the possibility that McCoy would be unavailable for dinner; if he had known Chou’s condition had worsened, he would have made certain his duties in Science were completed at another time. “I trust the procedure was completed successfully?” He had every confidence that the captain of the ship would have checked on the operation’s outcome. 

“So far so good. We’ll know for sure tomorrow if the grafts have taken, but Bones thinks they’ll work. So.” Kirk swiveled in his chair and looked up at him with a smile. “How has your day been? How has your life been the last two weeks?”

“As I told you during our last communication, exceptionally uneventful.” 

“Miss me?”

“Considerably.”

Kirk reached out towards him, and obligingly Spock took his hand. “That’s good to hear. I wish I could say I missed you, too, but to tell you the truth I was pretty much taken up with the trial.” 

“That is understandable.” 

“I guess you want to hear about it.”

“Only if you wish to tell me. What you wish to tell me.” 

“You’ve already read all about it, I’m sure.” 

“But not from your point of view. Encompassing your reaction to the events. Sitting on such a board had to be most difficult.” 

“Somebody had to do it.”

“And I am sure you performed your duty to the best of your ability.” 

“I—”

As so often seemed to happen when they were engaged in personal communication—of one sort or another—the intercom activated. “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

Kirk gave a wry sigh. “I can tell I’m back.” He thumbed the connection open. “Kirk here.” 

Lieutenant Palmer’s clear tones answered him. “Sir, Admiral Black’s compliments, and are you available for a communication at twenty-hundred-twenty hours?” 

“Of course, Lieutenant. Pipe it down to our quarters when he’s ready. Kirk out.” He regarded Spock sardonically. “At least he gives me warning, unlike some admirals I could name. Although…” he glanced at the chronometer display built into the desk surface, “seven minutes isn’t much. I guess he wants to hear how it went, too.”

“Understandable. There has been much publicity.”

Kirk ran a hand over his face. “Publicity. Oh, God. This could be about that. Some interview….” 

“Jim, that is unlikely. The trial is done and over with, the sentence has been initiated, you are back on active duty and were just one member of a three person board.” 

“Spock, you consistently underestimate the voracious appetite of human beings for gossip. And how we like to revel in bad news. How we like to think how lucky we are to be living our nice, quiet, safe lives when somebody else…isn’t.” 

He took a calculated risk and said, “Jim, your life has never been nice, quiet, or safe.” 

Kirk stood in place and stretched, his hands on the small of his back, and Spock stepped away to give him room to do so. “You’re wrong, because occasionally we do get a quiet evening together. Okay, why don’t you go do whatever you want to do while I deal with Black?” 

He took the dismissal in good grace and went to take a shower while the rumble of his bondmate’s voice came from the other room. He took his time cleansing under the sonics and wished that Kirk were willing to indulge in water showers more often. But water for shower use was limited on a starship, and Kirk had decided early in his captaincy not to exceed the amount allotted to the average crewperson, despite the more generous allotment given to the ship’s leader. Spock found it odd, indeed, that he was apparently more desirous of joint showers of the two of them, but then, he had always known that Kirk strictly controlled his desires. It was no matter, as during their last three shore leaves together they had showered together with abandon. 

When he emerged wearing the black cotton pajamas that he often also changed into for their informal evenings together, Kirk was still talking to someone on the viewscreen. It quickly became obvious that Admiral Black was not in the loop, but rather a reporter setting up a time for an interview. Spock was aware of the tension in Kirk’s body even though Kirk did not look at him, and without a word Spock retreated to the other side of the room, to his own desk and the duties that were never-ending. 

When Kirk finally snapped the connection closed, he got up and stalked into the bathroom without a word. Jim obviously needed some time to recover his equanimity, and Spock would give it to him. 

Eventually Kirk emerged, clad only in his briefs, and came to drop a short kiss on the top of Spock’s head. “Sorry about that, lover. Want a brandy?”

“I would prefer sherry, please.” 

“One sherry, coming up.”

One of the advantages of being captain was a replicator port in quarters, and even though it did not provide the full range of food that could be found in the rec rooms or the _Enterprise’s_ mess halls, it did offer a wide variety of beverages. A minute later and Kirk was back, sipping from one snifter and offering another.

“What have you got going there?”

“I am adjusting scheduling for next month’s shifts.” 

Kirk nodded. “Why don’t you finish that up and then join me?” He wandered back to the bedroom, and Spock’s eyes followed him. 

He could have completed his task in fewer than four minutes; instead he took twenty, making several personnel reviews in addition and taking the time to read three articles from the Federation Annals of Subatomic Particle Physics. Just when he was preparing to join Jim, though, a call came from Giotto. There was a discipline problem he wished to discuss by comm, and since creating the best environment among the crew in which to work and accomplish their mission was one of the primary duties of the first officer, this was a conversation Spock did not feel he could postpone. 

He might at one time have felt it impossible to have a formal, ship-related discussion with a subordinate while sitting in his quarters, out of uniform, and with the man he very much wished to experience sexual relations with, soon, not six meters away, but Spock no longer allowed himself to experience such concerns. _Kaiidth._ Someone else might experience discomfort over the reality of his relationship with the captain, but he would not. 

It was another twenty minutes before he was able to come to an equitable solution with Giotto and was able to retire to bed. Jim looked comfortably settled, slumped against the pillow before a reader, with the snifter on the nightstand, the brandy only half-consumed.

“Have you finished reading Churchill’s history yet?” 

“I’ve just started the last book. _Triumph and Tragedy._ Almost to the end of the war.” 

Spock lifted the sheet and slid into the bed next to him, immediately going over onto his side and, with presumption that two years before he would never have imagined himself capable of, reaching over and flicking the reader off. “Perhaps I can divert your attention from such subjects.” 

“With pleasure, lover.”

Kirk turned and to Spock’s satisfaction easily fit into his arms. “It’s been a long time,” he whispered, and then he flowed forward into a kiss. 

The moment Jim’s tongue snaked its way into Spock’s mouth, the arousal that he’d been denying all day long—on the bridge, in the turbolift, in the science lab, and especially since he’d entered their quarters—flared into being. Blood rushed to his penis, he could feel the hair on his arms prickling, the tips of his ears got hot, and he moaned. He gripped around the trim waist more definitely and hitched forward so that their bodies were pressing together tightly. He could detect just the beginnings of Kirk’s hardening. 

“Love it when you make sounds like that,” Kirk whispered after the need to breathe forced them apart. His hand wandered down Spock’s chest. “But we’re both overdressed, don’t you think?” 

Spock hooked his thumbs in Kirk’s briefs and had them down his legs in the matter of a few blinks, then finished removing them with his feet. It required more effort for his bondmate to divest him of his pajamas, which Kirk did by opening the snaps one by one and planting kisses to each portion of newly exposed skin. Spock fell back against the mattress and allowed him his pleasure, which was in turn his own pleasure, and the expression of it in turn fueled the light in Kirk’s eyes…. 

Being wrestled out of his pajamas by James T. Kirk was a sensual experience that Spock hoped to repeat many times over the course of a long lifetime spent with this man. Just a few minutes later he was naked, but there were not many portions of his anatomy that had not been caressed or kissed in the process of getting there. 

“Now, what do we have here?” Kirk spoke low and intimately.

Spock didn’t bother to answer, as a moment later the exquisite sensation of Kirk’s mouth engulfing his penis caused him to draw his breath in sharply. 

Anticipation made certain that the lead-up to orgasm could not last long. In the best of times they had to work hard to prolong any of their sexual encounters past a quarter hour, and with their long separation a quicker response was inevitable. And not undesired. After just a minute of attention, Jim hefted his testicles in his fingers, sucked him in deep, Spock slapped both hands flat against the sheet—once from sheer excitement, once again in warning—and then he arched and was ejaculating down his captain’s throat. 

“I’d say you missed me,” Kirk murmured, as he came up into Spock’s arms and shared the flavor of hybrid Vulcan-human semen in a kiss. 

Spock did not respond, but he rolled Kirk over onto his back, propped himself up on his elbow next to him, and prepared to give him as much pleasure as Spock had received. But for just a moment he simply looked into a pair of beautiful eyes, for the pleasure of doing so. What he saw there was not reassuring. Long ago Spock had realized that the key to reading emotional beings was to examine their eyes, and he had become consumed during the first few years of the five year mission with understanding all the mercurial changes in Kirk’s. 

Instantly he changed his plans. “Jim,” he murmured, and as he joined their lips he slid his fingers up the fine throat and to the meld points, another presumption that could not have been imagined by the before-Spock, but which was natural with a bondmate in need. 

Jim had no defenses against a meld with Spock. He had a dynamic but untrained mind, and they had been united like this for less than a year. Spock could have experienced any memory, any image, any feeling of Kirk’s that he wished, but he had no desire to do any of that. He held himself still, in the center, and urged _Come to me._

This Kirk could do; indeed, their compatibility on the bridge, on shore leave, and in bed sprang from the basic compatibility of their minds and spirits. From the first of their melds the joining had been more than easy for each of them: it had been a profound joy. 

As it was now, for just the split second of their first contact, and then there was…more. Spock wrapped himself around Kirk protectively and held him within his thoughts, rejoicing in his being, mourning his pain, sharing his sorrow. 

There was an instinctive tug towards separation: Jim’s desire to, as he put it, go it alone, to not burden Spock with his feelings, to not lose what he considered an essential trait of his masculinity that said that men did not need to lean on anyone. Spock did not try to counter the small distance that emerged between them, for Kirk almost immediately flowed back towards him with the wryly expressed knowledge _good commanders use every resource at their disposal. I need you, t’hy’la._

“It could have been me, or you, or anybody.” Many minutes later Kirk was sitting up in bed. “An instant of inattention, plain bad luck….” 

“You do not truly believe that or you would not have voted for Captain Loudermilk’s conviction.” 

Kirk sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re right.”

“Two hundred and fifty people on that passenger liner lost their lives because of his flagrant bad judgment.”

Kirk said, sharply, “You don’t have to repeat the evidence, believe me, I know it by heart.” 

Spock placed a hand on his back, not saying anything. Kirk took a deep breath. “He had a history that Starfleet had been ignoring. Those people died because we, as an organization, were not doing our jobs. He should have been relieved two years ago, sent to a starbase, some other post where he couldn’t wreak havoc…. It should never have come to this.” 

“You are correct, of course. But, given the conditions as they are, you could not vote in any other way.”

Kirk turned to him. “Twenty years, Spock. Twenty years in a rehab colony.”

“It is most regrettable.”

“He was captain of his ship. His crew. He has a wife, three kids. A life. I took that away from him.”

“He is responsible for his actions.”

“Is he really? What about Starfleet’s responsibility for turning away from all the signs that said this was going to happen? You know about his uncle in the Benecian Senate.”

Spock nodded. “Of course.”

“I don’t know if that had anything to do with it.” Kirk rubbed his jaw. “Realistically, probably not. But still…. And no matter what you say, it could have been me.”

“Jim, you are an excellent—”

“I’m human, and as likely to use bad judgment as the next being. What about Deneva, Spock?”

“It is illogical to torment yourself with unlikely scenarios. With events that did not occur.”

But Kirk would not be deterred. “Suppose we hadn’t found the solution there in time? It could have happened, maybe one of the lab techs slipped up, or there was a contamination of a sample. Suppose I didn’t see any other alternative but to get rid of the parasites the only way I knew how, and I sacrificed the sight of all those people on the surface, who didn’t have an inner eyelid and would never see the people they loved again? And then we found out that a different wavelength of light would have saved the population and still killed the invaders. How do you think Starfleet would have reacted to that?”

“They would have taken into consideration your ex—”

“Or they would have thrown the book at me, and I’d be the one sitting in that court-martial, again, and with it happening the second time I don’t think they’d have gone easy on me.” He held his head in his hands. “Dear God, I don’t think I would have gone easy on myself. So many lives….” 

There was little that Spock could say. He sat there, lending support with his presence. 

Eventually, Kirk spoke again, his voice even and controlled. “I’ve thought about this a lot. Loudermilk’s actions were…the result of a long string of problems that built on itself. But fate plays a hand, too. Not you. It would never happen to you, that I’d have to say good-bye and watch you walk away for twenty years, because with your attention to detail you’d never let yourself get so far down the path to incompetence, but….”

“Jim,” Spock finally allowed himself to speak, and his words were a caress. “Do you know yourself so little?”

Kirk finally pulled himself upright and looked at him. “No,” he said, low and clear. “I do know. I do.” 

“Why do you torment yourself for your own brilliance as a commander?”

“Because…I don’t know why I am the way I am, Spock,” he said simply. “That’s it. Why me, why him, why are any of us the way we are?” 

Spock just looked at him for a moment, and then said, “T’hy’la, come here.” 

He gathered Kirk up in his arms and brought them both back onto the pillows, then pulled the sheet up cover them. “Lights off,” he commanded the computer, and darkness came over the room. 

They lay together in silence for minutes, and Spock knew that his Jim was not asleep. 

Eventually Kirk pushed up on one elbow. Spock could barely see him in the dimness. 

“Why are you here with me, Spock?”

There were many ways to answer. Spock knew his own feelings and had communicated them often enough so that he was certain that Jim knew he loved him with every devoted cell of his being. But this was a question that came from a different part of Kirk than he usually saw, than Kirk usually allowed out from the complex mixture of his personality. 

Spock placed his palm flat against his soulmate’s cheek. 

“Because you need me. And I will always be here for you.” 

It must have been what Jim needed to hear. Kirk sighed, and then he leaned down for a lingering kiss. “I’m beat. How about I screw you silly in the morning, okay?” 

“That is an acceptable course of action. Good night, Jim.” 

Kirk settled back on the pillow. “Good night, Spock.” 

Within a minute, he could tell that his bondmate was asleep. Spock rolled over onto his side, facing him, and guarded him through the night against all things. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> "Just Another Quiet Evening on the Enterprise" first appeared in Bondmates, Summer 2006


End file.
